


make me quiver

by catsoncocaine



Series: The Whorification of Miya Atsumu [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Smut, an attempt was made, atsusuna, happy birthday suna rintarou, lap dance, miya atsumu gives a lap dance, miya atsumu you whore, no sex just vibes, not beta read we die like men going to war in the 50s, sunaatsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsoncocaine/pseuds/catsoncocaine
Summary: “Well, can’t ya just be patient for a while? I’m setting things up, geez, can’t do anything to please people these days.” Atsumu continues to mumble under his breath, as Rintarou starts to see things falling into place. “Oh you’re giving me a lap dance? Nice.”Rintarou comes home to a set up by his boyfriend. They celebrate his birthday.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou
Series: The Whorification of Miya Atsumu [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932934
Comments: 5
Kudos: 97





	make me quiver

**Author's Note:**

> *nervous giggle*
> 
> nothing really goes on here,, i wanted to write something for suna's birthday, despite it not being suna-centric in the end. (suna's bday is just an excuse, author just wanted to see atsumu dancing lmao)

When you are in your mid-20s, birthdays are no longer something special, rather than just a reminder of how old you are now and how you are one year closer to your inevitable death. At least that’s how Rintarou sees it. Turning 26 right in the middle of a work week, cramped with practice matches and their weekly body toning session, it was basically just another Tuesday for him. Sure, he gets the flurry of “Happy Birthday” messages from his friends and teammates, a birthday package from his family that arrived a day early, and Komori and Washio bringing him a slice of carrot cake from the bakery that Rintarou particularly likes. Oh, and Atsumu acting nicer to him in the morning, rising earlier than usual to cook him breakfast instead of kicking Rintarou out of bed to wake him up. But still, aside from these pleasant additions to his day, it is a basic Tuesday, still. 

No plans to go out and have dinner with Atsumu somewhere fancy, not even a promise of going to drink with their friends, with how busy they all are in preparation for the season. So Rintarou was not expecting _anything_ at all from Atsumu, maybe a silly gift or a warm home-cooked dinner -- only successful with guidance from Osamu through video calls -- or just a simple, relaxing massage. 

He expected none of this. 

“Atsumu,” he said, breathless, as he drops his bag to the ground right next to his feet. “ _Shit_.”

Dating Miya Atsumu is something that Rintarou would have never predicted in his youth. Of course he is hot, but if Rintarou is simply looking for a good looking guy he would have went for Osamu instead. But the blond man, and the manner in which he had barrelled himself into the life of one Suna Rintarou, had knocked him breathless the first time he realized this. And of course, Atsumu continues to blow punches to his poor self, defying expectations in their relationship left and right.

“Holy fuck, _Atsumu_ ,”

Dating Miya Atsumu means you need to get used to the feeling of being punched in the gut. Well, not in a bad way.

Because there is nothing bad about Atsumu in fishnet tights. 

❄

Atsumu is nervous. Rintarou had been standing at the doorway for a good 5 minutes. Atsumu would know, since he had looked at the clock four times since Rintarou came in and the man is still stuck there, eyes looking like he does not know where to look first, and it’s making him _nervous_ . Does he look stupid? Is the fishnet a bad touch on his get-up tonight? Is Rintarou even _into_ this shit?

“Oi, you’re making me feel dumb, sitting like this waiting for you.”

Atsumu spoke first, successfully pulling Rintarou out of the trance. The taller man kicks away the bag that he dropped so he could properly close the door behind him, eyes never leaving Atsumu’s body. He does not know where to look first, every feature on his lover accentuated beautifully by the garments adorned on him. From his fishnet-clad legs to the booty shorts that go over it, to the v-neck satin shirt he is wearing, the deep maroon color looking delicious against Atsumu’s tanned skin. The top buttons are undone too, pulled to the sides as much as it could to expose his collarbones and a peek of his chest, Atsumu, that _whore_ , and it was tied right above the seam of his shorts, slivers of skin peeking out whenever he moves. 

Internally, Rintarou thinks this is the part where he drops to his knees and offers his praise and gratitude to the gods above that had blessed him with a 5-star Michelin meal tonight. Externally, he only managed a “You look fucking hot,” with the most disinterested tone one could ever have while having Miya Atsumu looking like _that_ in their bed. His response made a tic of annoyance appear on his boyfriend’s face. 

“You’re an asshole,” Atsumu says, as he rises from the bed and walks to the dresser where his phone is propped up against a small stereo speaker, one Rintarou recognizes as his own speaker from the living room. He didn’t notice before, but now that Atsumu is standing, he can see that his boyfriend is wearing a pair of heels to compliment the rest of his outfit, and the extra height that comes from it too. The pair of heels were a nice one too, black straps wrapping around the ankles of Atsumu’s feet to keep them snug there, and it makes his boyfriend look super fucking hot and Rintarou just wants to get his hands on him. Quietly, he crosses the distance between the two of them in silent strides and has his chest immediately on Atsumu’s back, hands flying to the skin of Atsumu’s thighs. He reaches in deeper and rubs at the spot near the seams of his shorts, the friction he got from the fishnet material oddly turning him on as he mouths at Atsumu’s ears. Like this, they are almost the same height, and the leverage Rintarou has on Atsumu’s body increases. 

“Wait, Rin, no-”

Rintarou can see the red high on Atsumu’s cheeks, as the other man tries to hide his embarrassment and stubbornly peels his hands off of his body. He was pushed onto the bed and his hands got swatted away as he attempts to touch Atsumu again. The man looked away again in favour of working at his phone, trying to connect the Bluetooth to the speakers.

“And here I thought that this would be my birthday gift.”

He says, lazily, leaning back into the bed with his arms supporting his waist as he stares at Atsumu’s ass that is being poorly hidden by the shorts. Fuck, these shorts really are _short_ and his ass is just _right there_ , so close to his hands that he must touch, but just as Rintarou is raising his hands to give the cheeks a squeeze, Atsumu turns around with a disapproving look.

“Ya horny bastard, can’t you keep your hands to yourself for like, two minutes?”

“Well it’s kinda mean that you are waving your ass around like this and I can’t even get a touch!” It came out a little more petulant than Rintarou had planned, but it conveys the message all the same.

“Well, can’t ya just be patient for a while? I’m setting things up, geez, can’t do anything to please people these days.” Atsumu continues to mumble under his breath, as Rintarou starts to see things falling into place. “Oh you’re giving me a lap dance? Nice.”

Even from where Rintarou is seated he could see the blush from before creeping up Atsumu’s ears again, and smattering the high of his cheekbones as well, and he smirks. Not very hard to get Atsumu flustered, something that he had learned quickly over the past years of knowing the blond man. 

“Yer so fucking vulgar, Rin.”

“Says the man who is actually giving me a lap dance.”

“Can you shut up? Oh my god,” the blond sighs out, as he rummages through the drawer in search of something. He walks back to Rintarou with his red tie in hand, gathers both of his hands to his back and ties it there, all the while sneakily pressing his knees into his crotch, applying the slightest bit of pressure there to tease him.

“So I can’t touch, huh?”

“I’ve worked too hard for this and I can’t have ya coming in yer pants before I get to show you everything.”

Ah, of course. How Miya Atsumu of him. Of course he would have prepared and practiced for this too, this is Atsumu after all. How could Rintarou just expected a half-assed lap dance from the man who holds annoyingly high standards upon people, especially _himself_. Obviously this extends to everything he else does, even for something as trivial as a lap dance.

Atsumu gives him a chaste kiss on the lips, and Rintarou relishes in the warm touch of his lover’s lips, disappointed when it doesn’t last as long as he wanted it to. The lips’ warmth moves to his neck, and his ears next. 

“You showered already, right?” He breathes, right into Rintarou’s ear. 

“Yeah.”

_Fuck_. 

“At the gym.” 

He’s already hard. 

If Atsumu notices the hardening bulge in Rintarou’s sweatpants or the breathiness of his answer, he didn’t say anything, as he slips off of Rintarou’s lap and moves to the dresser where his phone and speaker is. Fiddling with it for a while, he presses the ‘play’ button and the beat starts to fill the room, shutting Rintarou up as he anticipates what Atsumu had prepared for him. 

At first Rintarou could see the other man was nervous, breath shaky as he walked to the other side of the room, plenty of space separating him and his boyfriend, and Rintarou was restless. His boyfriend is looking so damn hot in the booty shorts, and the little sways he is doing with his hips is further accentuated from the stilettos, and all he could do is watch. He couldn’t even touch himself due to the restraint on his hands. Under Atsumu’s nervous gaze, Rintarou shifts his hips to alleviate some tension off of his crotch.

_Baby, would you mind_

_Touching me_

A breathy, feminine voice croons and it was Atsumu’s cue to slowly drop his body to the ground, legs spreading carefully as he bounces at the beats. Rintarou gulps. The material of the fishnet is taut against the muscles of Atsumu’s thighs, threatening to rip under the pressure, but Atsumu still moves his hips from left to right, exaggerating the juts and curves of it.

_Ever so slowly_

_You’re making me quiver_

He starts to pull his right leg so it aligns with the left, arching his butt up before moving to spread his legs again, this time pulsing the movements twice at the word “quiver”. 

_Baby, would you mind_

_Undressing me_

Atsumu places his knees on the floor and draws his chest close to the ground, hands stretching out in front of him like a cat, and slowly crawls to where Rintarou is seated. The man jumps in his seat, suddenly panicking at the thought of Atsumu coming close to touch him, scared if he would ruin Atsumu’s dance if he couldn’t control himself enough, until he pulls at the tie restraining him and realizes that his boyfriend already made sure that wouldn’t happen tonight. A high blush rises on Rintarou’s cheeks as he stares at the jut of Atsumu’s butts clad in the shorts, so obscenely presented on the floor like that to him. 

_Making me feel sexy_

_While in the moment_

He pulls his body away from the ground, rolling his upper body twice as he keeps a steady eye contact with Rintarou, the nerves from before gone and replaced with utter confidence, confidence in his body, his movements, Rintarou’s lust for him. Swiftly, Atsumu makes a move to turn, kicking out his right leg so his legs are half-split, running his fingers along it before pulling them backwards, bringing his body around as well so that his backside is facing Rintarou now. At the last syllable of the verse, he reaches behind and cheekily lifts the shorts and folding it in, so that it rides right along his crack, exposing more of his ass to his boyfriend, all the while shooting Rintarou a smile that obviously says _you know you want to fuck this_. 

_Cause I’m gonna_

_Bathe you, play with you, rub you, caress you_

_Tell how much I’ve missed you_

Not removing himself from the floor, Atsumu turns around again and puts his weight on his knees before pushing his body forward, heels-clad legs kicking up from behind as he stares at the man in front of him like he’s going to eat him up. Like this, his face is dangerously close to Rintarou’s crotch, and he makes to turn again and picks himself up to stand, arching his back to make his ass jut out in the process. Atsumu’s legs are spread, and with his hands on his knees to support his weight, he pushes his rear out in undulating motions, and when Rintarou managed to tear his eyes off of his ass to look at Atsumu’s face, the man’s attention was already on him, and mouths the last bits of the lyrics in perfect synchrony. 

Fuck.

  
  


_I just wanna_

_Touch you, tease you, lick you, please you_

_Love you, hold you, make love to you_

In mercy, Atsumu removes himself from between his legs, walking away from his lover’s heated loins, each stride accentuated by the sway of his hips, swinging his buttocks from left to right at every beat. The dark haired man almost groans, already missing the licks of warmth from Atsumu’s body being so close to his. 

_And I’m gonna_

_Kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you_

_Feel you deep inside me, oh_

He doesn’t stay gone for long, though, before he turns around to walk back to Rintarou, pleasantly surprised that Atsumu has unbuttoned his shirt, the red silk nearly slipping off of his shoulders as he takes one step closer to him. The blond man stops just two steps away from him, hands flying up to rake his fingers up his hair, rolling his body again. From Rintarou’s perspective, this is pure torture. Atsumu is looking down on him with a challenging smirk, and he should really get pissed and swear to punch the smug look off of his face. But he is also looking at him with his hooded eyes, already succumbing to the pleasure despite having done nothing but move and display his body to him. The lips that are smirking at him are red and wet, possibly from Atsumu’s own spit, and it opens and closes around nothing, breathing pants into the air that he can still hear amidst the music. 

God, he just wants to kiss Atsumu so fucking bad right now.

_I just wanna_

_Kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you_

_Feel you, make you come to_

Flipping his hair, Atsumu’s hands grip on Rintarou’s shoulders to pull his upper body close, before dragging his fingers up the sides of his neck, and buries it in his hair. Rintarou does not have much control over his body like this, with his hands tied at the back, and he doesn’t even try to use his core strength to resist, just lets his face be dragged to the skin right above the seams of Atsumu’s shorts.

_Lower_ , Rintarou growls. What he wants is situated lower, but of course Atsumu does not grant him that. 

He stares up at the man, who still has his grips on Rintarou’s head, before placing a kiss below the navel where his lips could taste the skin. Atsumu closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, and Rintarou revels in his reaction. He wanted to do something else, to do more, to have more of Atsumu’s body and skin and warmth, but is not given the time to think when Atsumu situates himself right on top of him, one knee on the bed as he stretches his right leg over Rintarou’s lap. Rintarou can do nothing but stare at the expanse of skin bared right under his nose, mentally noting that Atsumu’s thighs look heavenly, tanned skin appearing darker with the fishnet wrapped around it. 

“I wanna make you come,” he says, breathless, as he lowers himself so his thighs are right on top of Rintarou’s and their crotches are only millimeters away from touching. Rintarou feels himself bucking up, the movement involuntary as Atsumu’s hands snake around his waist, and in one deft pull frees Rintarou’s hand from the restraint. Immediately, his hands find their place, cupping both of Atsumu’s ass cheeks as he fights against the urge to grind their bulges together. All Rintarou wants to do now is to use the leverage he has on Atsumu’s butt and mash their lower halves together, but the song is still going on and Atsumu looks like he is not done with the routine, either.

No. He is 26 year old, not a pre-teen who comes from just rubbing at each other through their clothes. He must show some restraint, _goddamnit_. 

_Baby, would you mind_

_Kissing me, all over my body_

_You missed a spot there_

Atsumu chuckles in mirth, smirking when he feels the familiar grip on the flesh of his cheeks tighten, clasping at the flesh. “Careful, babe, the show’s not over yet,” Atsumu says, but he didn’t move to swat his hands away, but guides them so that it stays on his waist instead, a silent challenge for Rintarou not to touch any further than there. His shirt is already discarded on the floor, and like this, Rintarou has an armful of hot skin and heavy muscles in his lap.

Placing his hands on Rintarou’s shoulders, Atsumu lets himself fall back, waist curved as he bends backwards and rotates the upper half of his body in time with the singer’s humming. This movement forces Atsumu to place his ass right on Rintarou’s crotch, and as he moves his body Rintarou can feel the friction everytime he moves. His dick twitches with excitement and Atsumu definitely felt that, from the way a low chuckle left his lips and the cocky mirth in his eyes. His grip on self-control is waning, and he squeezes his fingers on where he could feel Atsumu’s hip bones, definitely bruising him there. With a surprised gasp, Atsumu moves his body forward again, this time bringing his own hard-on against Rintarou’s.

_Full mast_ , Rintarou thinks, pleased, as he smirks up at Atsumu.

“Oh shut up.”

“But I didn’t say anything,” his smirk only widens when he slowly rolls his hips up, eliciting a little “ _Ah!_ ” from Atsumu. The man takes it as a challenge and starts to grind down on him, unknowingly granting what Rintarou had been waiting for since he started dancing. _Finally_. 

_Baby, would you mind tasting me_

_It's making me all juicy_

_Feeling your lips on mine_

Riding the rhythm, Atsumu puts his strength in his thighs and lifts his body up, before rolling down again and pushing his bulge to Rintarou’s own, unconsciously panting into Rintarou’s ears as he slowly descends into desperation. 

“Touch me,” Atsumu says, and within a heartbeat, the hands on his waist move to settle on his ass, instantly bruising the skin there by grasping the cheeks and clenching his fingers around it. “Ha-- Rin!” Atsumu screams out. He grabs his shoulders again and uses it as leverage to ride him, frotting and rubbing through their clothes. Rintarou can see how much Atsumu is holding back, his hips stuttering when he tries not to give in to his own pleasure, and exerts more force on the hands that are holding Atsumu’s hips so the next time he goes down, he will feel more of Rintarou. 

Atsumu on the other hand is rapidly losing control of his movements, legs shaking everytime he pushes himself upwards and mind going blank when he rubs his ass on Rintarou’s clothed dick. The shorts are riding on his crack and the light pressure on his hole is making him crave for more, for something else, anything, to press more into it. The other man seems to notice, hands making way to gather the material of his shorts and bunch them up, pulling it up so it catches on the asscrack. Having more skin to his access now, he kneads the fleshy globes, revelling in the friction that the fishnet provides to the skin of his fingertips. Rintarou has his hands working to push Atsumu’s lower half closer as his own hips buck up into the friction of their bulges. Atsumu is trying not to rut and hump on Rintarou, as breathless pants and desperate little groans spill from his mouth. 

“Fuck, Rin-- I still have-- the song.”

“It’s fine, Atsumu,” Rintarou noses at his shoulders, greedily inhaling the scent there as his hips work to thrust up into Atsumu. The lap dance was more than satisfactory, and now Rintarou just wants to enjoy Atsumu on his own. 

“But it’s your-- It’s your birthday--”

A wave of adoration washes through him, realizing that Atsumu is trying to forgo his own pleasure to prioritize Rintarou. He rubs soft circles into Atsumu’s hip bones, stilling the movements of his hips.

“Fuck, it’s okay, Atsumu, you can show me the rest later. I just want to enjoy my real birthday gift right here,” he accentuates his words by grazing his lips on the skin near Atsumu's nipples, missing only by a few inches, and croons when the man on top of him shiver under his touch. "Fuck, Rin, okay-- okay, do whatever you want with me, it’s your call today.”

Rintarou changes his mind. Birthdays are a gift from God. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> so... i'm probably gonna come back and edit this later, not really in the mood to do this before posting, but eh. i just needed to get this out of my system. @ suna, sorry that my work for your bday is not my best, i will try harder next year hhhh
> 
> choreography by [aliya janell from tmilly studio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGzVFjjfAfw)
> 
> song used: would you mind by janet jackson


End file.
